I’m going to have to ask for your forgiveness in advance for any egregious spelling errors or typos in this post, since I’m writing this on the couch with a dog – a dog whose actual size is rather disproportionate to her perceived size – sprawled out across my lap between my arms and my laptop. When we decided to cancel cable, I never really considered how it would affect the dog (or the cats for that matter … won’t SOMEBODY please THINK of the CHILDREN?!) and I think she would view it as a rather selfish decision as she misses her regular t.v. time cuddles and is forced to seek them out at different times and, it would seem, in ways that are much less comfortable for both of us.
I spent most of the weekend at Mike’s baseball tournament, and although they did not win, the guys played well and seemed to have fun. At one crucial interval I had to heave myself off of the bleachers and retrieve a ball, so between that and supplying half of our picnic, I think my contributions were a necessary part of the whole tournament experience. (Those who actually had to play five games in less than 24 hours might disagree, but a healthy little bit of disagreement never really hurt anyone and I don’t really have time to argue about who among us played baseball in the scorching sun for hours upon hours and who baked cookies ahead of time and then lounged comfortably in the shade whenever possible.) I think I might have finally mastered the lingo and perfected my encouraging cheers, with the remaining piece of the puzzle (actually being audible beyond the back row of our team’s bench) finally falling into place during the last game. At least I’m fairly certain one of the players made eye contact with me at one point, although that may have been a coincidence or a humidity-induced hallucination.
Spending bits of my summer watching the Hurricanes (go team! nice poke! and so forth) play ball has made me feel a little wistful summers spent playing team sports, although wistful is perhaps not the correct word choice there as it implies I have, at one point or other in my life, played a team sport, which I have not. Whether due to a lack of natural aptitude or a lack of natural interest, I’m not totally sure, but regardless I never once played a team sport, unless you count my years in gymnastics, which I wouldn’t, because although technically you’re on a team, when you’re competing it’s very much an every-man-for-himself sort of situation. I took tennis lessons, which you play with – at most – one other person, and I excelled at standing long jump, which isn’t really a sport, and in recent years I’ve come to enjoy running a great deal, which is fun to do in pairs (especially if the other half of the pair is of a similar level of cardiovascular fitness and can organize your intervals in such a way that they don’t make you want to curl up on the side of the trail and wait for someone to come along to rescue you) but is such a solitary activity in general that even when it is done in teams, only one person is actually doing any running at any given time.
I’m naturally a sort of introverted and solitary person anyway, so it makes sense that I’m drawn to activities you do on your own or in small groups, but at the end of every game this weekend, I couldn’t help but wish I was part of a group of people who all got together at regular intervals and high-fived or bumped shoulders and complimented each other on a job well done. Perhaps I will have to begin doing this with clients at the end of a project or with friends after dinner.